New beginnings

New starts come more than once a year

Still punctuating Craig’s mostly-packed-away room are little remnants of his past life: his iPod and guitar pick, his weight set and Arnold Schwarzenegger bodybuilding encyclopedia, one of his beloved Harry Potter books and a Stephen King novel. All those things—music, exercise, and pleasure reading—were such a big part of his life as a teenager but now have very little place in his rigorous missionary schedule in Argentina. 

Now, his workouts last about the same amount of time he used to spend just warming up for a water polo game. Now, his music searches consist of thumbing through the church hymnal for songs to play on the piano--quite a contrast to the habits of the boy turned eclectic-music-enthusiast who discovered new songs and artists online almost daily.

It's soup season

The virtues of soup are endless

I’m not the carnivore type who has to sink my teeth into meat to be satisfied. In fact, except for a good Perry barbecue now and then and an occasional pot roast, I could live on soup almost all year. (No kidding. I’ve even ordered soup in Reno, Nevada during the summer.) 

Fortunately for me, it’s soup season, and I don’t have to make any apologies for either preparing or requesting soup often. Better yet, at this time of year, others are thinking like me. The other night, for example, I was busy upstairs when Ken called me down to dinner. He’d fixed grilled cheese sandwiches and soup (tomato basil bisque, to be exact). That the soup came from a can didn’t matter in the least; it was positively delicious and exactly what I wanted on a cold, dark night.

Is Santa Claus really all that?

Santa Claus has always been such a conflicting figure

When Bryan, our eldest, was six years old, he lamented, “Dad, I’ve been scared of Santa for four years. Now, this year, I’m not scared, and I don’t know what to ask for.” Fine time for a brain freeze! After all, he knew this was THE guy holding the key to his childhood happiness.

Truth be told, Santa Claus, is a very conflicting figure. On the one hand, we teach children to beware of strangers, yet we fully expect them to feel comfortable cozying up to this white-haired man they see only once a year and divulging their secret wishes. Moreover, we insist they help document their great pleasure in this encounter by smiling for the camera. Talk about cognitive dissonance! No wonder so many children cry during the obligatory photo shoot with Santa. They’re terrified!

Who makes you laugh the most?

Grant still can make me laugh my head off

I know I shouldn’t have laughed, but I couldn’t help myself. Immediately after she led the group in singing a reverent song, a woman at church walked down the aisle and slugged her husband as she passed by. Obviously, something was understood between them. From my point of view, the irony was enough to have me laughing throughout the prayer that followed.

Laughing, even at the most inappropriate times, can feel so good. It cleanses the soul. It makes us feel alive. That's why, consciously or subconsciously, we continually seek out people who make us laugh, and we look for moments to make others laugh.

The case of the burnt cookie and a season of loss

Everyday domestic disasters can throw off the elderly

This morning Mom wanted a little treat after breakfast—a woman after my own heart. So, she put a frozen cookie in the microwave and accidentally programmed in one-too-many digits. From upstairs, I smelled something burning but thought it was just toast, which would have been a pretty normal mistake. 

When I investigated, however, I found Mom very upset and apologetic. She was so sorry for having burned the cookie and the plastic food protector and for having filled the house with a terrible smell. But she was far more upset that she’d made such a “dumb mistake,” as she put it. The poor thing was literally in tears and couldn't stop emotionally flogging herself.

Writing and getting it right

In my early school years, I wrote and edited all my papers with a pen

Wouldn’t our English teachers be so proud of us? They used to have to assign us to write. Now, we write blogs, send Tweets and emails, comment on Facebook, and even self-publish—all of our own volition. What's come over us? 

Many of the long-standing barriers to writing are no longer relevant. Digital devices, together with social media channels, eliminate most excuses for not being able to ever publish your writing, and those same technologies have crumbled the walls of self-consciousness once so common among reticent writers, making “having our say” almost irresistible at times. In fact, a rare few contract “hypergraphia,” an overpowering desire to write.

Halloween party pooper

My last-minute nerd costume

Some things about Halloween I love. Having candy galore is always fun, and caramel apples are delicious. The costume thing, though, has never been my favorite part of the holiday.

Some people can’t wait to dress up. In fact, I have friends who plan their Halloween costumes literally weeks in advance. This enthusiasm always surprises me since the costume tradition in my family of origin differed so widely. Right before going out to trick-or-treat, we'd race up to the attic, rummage through an old trunk overflowing with random costume pieces, grab something that fit, and dash out the door with our friends to get a haul. In my mind, a costume was just a means to an end.

You can't hurry love

My mom was and still is a modern-day Wonder Woman

Mom’s well-earned wrinkles and gray hair belie the busy, vibrant life she once lived raising 13 children. Even in her day, she was an anomaly. Having such a large family today is virtually unheard of. “How did she do it?” I’m always asked.

First of all, she and Dad made up their minds early to have a big family. In fact, they planned to have 17 children (12 sons and 5 daughters). When they ended up with only 7 boys and 6 girls, they joked about falling short. 

Dad had just one older brother and a twin who died when they were about seven months old, so he felt he missed out on the fun that comes from being part of a big family. Consequently, he always wanted to have his own big family. Fortunately for him, Mom was a willing partner who was also extremely organized, smart, and capable.

Creativity

At what point does creativity become unimportant in adult development?

Our last son anticipated his last Cub Scout Pinewood Derby, and my husband and I were not heartbroken to see the end of that era. Mark, on the other hand, along with the other little Scouts who had carved, sanded, and painted their rectangular blocks of pinewood, arrived at the race just as excited, proud, and hopeful as the rest of our boys once did. Much to his dismay, however, when he placed his car on the official scale, it weighed too much. 

Our family huddled. Together, we decided the only thing to be done at that point was to shave off chunks of wood, one cruel slice at a time. Watching his car being whittled down, Mark simply remarked, resignedly, “I should have just made a motorcycle," We all chortled, surprised and delighted by his good humor and good nature. He was neither overwhelmed by disappointment nor overcome by failure. For better or worse, this was simply a creative experience.

The perfect gift

I'm convinced watermelon was the forbidden fruit

Twice in my life, I’ve been given a whole watermelon for my birthday. One year, when I was a young teenager, my mom said, with a twinkle in her eye, “Go up to your room. Your birthday present is on your bed.” And there sat a green watermelon with a big, red bow tied around it. Because it was all mine, I was allowed to eat the heart right out of it—guilt-free.